Need
by GroovyKat
Summary: The title pretty much sums it up. Mark and Princess /need/ to be with each other ...


Yeah. This is another of those "Written just to hook them up" fics. A classic "plot-_what_-plot?" piece. I will warn that it contains auto-eroticism and nookie. I.e., it is naughty. I needed a break from "real" fic work, so I threw myself in to this to appease my hungry muse.

This, I originally wrote as a Gatchaman fic with Ken and Jun, but I just have so many difficulties tackling Gatchaman and believing that he would ever actually break and take himself the swan, that I had to change it up to my BotP kids. (and, hell, Mark is just so much more fun to play with than Ken is)

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I wish I did. I dream that one day I might … but I don't own them. Sandy Frank's teams own the G-Force team (at least I think they do)…

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Need

Mark ran a hand through his sweat drenched hair and threw his head back to douse his face with water. The image was scintillating to the young Swan watching on secretly from the upper deck windows of the training room. She held the edge of the table and uttered the quietest of whimpers as she caught his image in the five mirrors removing his wettened shirt, which left him in nothing but a thin pair of drawstring pants.

He was so captivating to behold.

Her eyes, imaginary fingers for now, traced over each curve of his training swelled muscles. His hard and deep breaths rose in his chest, expanded with each inhale, rose in his lifting shoulders, then shuddered with release as he controlled his exhale through parted lips. Her fingers brushed over her breath-dried lips and fanned out her shortened breaths as she imagined pressing them against Mark's. She closed her eyes and imagined the kiss, his breath against hers, his nose nuzzling behind her ear as his lips moved across her jaw to meet with her ear so that he could ghost words of love and tenderness into her ear. His hands would meet with her waist and slide, with deliberate and smooth strokes, down to her hips. They wouldn't stop there, though, Mark would work them into the thin gap between the waistband of her jeans and her goose bumped skin. He'd glide them across her buttocks and offer a squeeze and a tug to pull her yet closer to him. She'd shake and shudder to his touch, each nerve, over-sensitized with desire and need, prickling and reacting to each touch of his lips, hands, fingers. There would then be a pause in his movements. He'd inhale a short breath, exhale long and slow with only the slightest hint of her name in whisper. Then, with movements quick, but not rushed, he'd pull her firmly to him and claim her mouth passionately with his. His tease of what he had to offer her would be pressed against her as he lifted her from the ground and pulled her hips hard against his. He'd pulse gently against her as her legs slowly moved around his hips to further invite him openly to her. She'd whimper against him and softly beg his name…

"Mark..."

"Princess?"

Princess took a deep breath and shook the thoughts from her mind. Her face flushed at the interruption and she managed a squeaked, "Chief?" She rose to her feet and smiled in greeting.

Anderson nodded in response, then moved from the doorway and slowly approached her. His fingers tapped on her open journal and he managed to scan only half of the first paragraph before she slammed it shut and pulled it to her chest.

"I…I needed some privacy, it's hard to write in my journal with Keyop around me."

Anderson nodded slowly and shifted his eyes to the training room below. He grunted when he saw Mark barefoot and bare chested doing a cool-down stretch on the mats. "Do we need to talk, Princess?"

Princess drew her book to her chest and gave him an innocent stare. "No, Chief, I have nothing I need to talk to you about, however if I have done anything that needs reprimand—"

"No, Princess," he interrupted quietly as he turned his head from the window. "I've no reason to speak harshly to you."

"But there is something that concerns you, Sir, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

Anderson gave a short laugh and extended his hand to tell her to take a seat. He waited until she had carefully done as requested and took a seat himself. "Perhaps."

Princess shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "I hope it is something we can resolve quickly."

Anderson noticed the uneasy squeak in her voice as she spoke, "That hope of yours is definitely shared between us all, Princess." He paused after speaking to regard her for a moment. She was definitely anxious about something, he could see her fidget with her journal and her downcast stare was very unlike her. "Mark—" her head shot up at her commander's name, but he ignored it for now, "has indicated in recent reports that you've seemed a little distracted recently during training and briefings. This has been confirmed in reports from your trainers." He tilted his head at her and raised his elbows to lean them on the armrests of the chair. "Is there something you can tell me that may be causing this distraction?"

A slow brow rose in Princess's mind, a matching smirk joined it --_Yes, Sir, I have been daydreaming about that God you have leading us, and of spending hours making mad, passionate love with him._ Her outward appearance showed the opposite, and she gazed upon Anderson with wide eyes. She cleared her throat and whispered, "I'm not sure what you mean. I have been nothing but focused when we have been on missions – I can't afford not to."

Anderson leaned forward in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his nose. His eyes didn't leave hers even as she nervously flicked them sideways and focused on the pen in his pocket. "Your operations performance can't be faulted. However, distraction in other areas can sometimes merge into more important ones, and I'd like to see that we can find the cause of this distraction and solve the problem before it gets to that point."

"I have been a little tired, Chief," she began softly, not daring to look him in the eye. "Perhaps I am coming down with a cold. Did Mark say how long this has been a problem for him?"

"He hasn't indicated that it is a problem for him, however he has noticed slight misjudgments here and there in training maneuvers that you would normally excel in." He took a breath, and continued, "Have you been to the infirmary to have yourself checked?"

Princess shook her head, "No, Sir, I haven't. I figure it is something I can shake off with some heavy training and plenty of sleep. You know, sweat it out and sleep it off."

"That is a wives tale, Princess. But if it is what you feel is necessary. Is there anything else you can attribute this to?"

Princess blinked, then coughed. "PMS?"

Anderson blinked then rose from his seat. He patted his hand against the air as Princess rose also to tell her to remain seated. "I'll see that we start you on a course of Depo Provera as soon as possible if that is the case."

Princess detected a hint of frustration in his tone, but didn't react to it. "yes, Sir."

Anderson said nothing further as he walked out of the room and gently closed the door behind him. Princess waited until she heard the click and his footsteps walking away, and let out a long sigh of relief. She knew full well that he knew how she felt about Mark, and that it was definitely the cause of her recent distractions. Why he had chosen not to comment on it was beyond her, he'd done it on occasions before when she had unwillingly put her foot into her mouth when swooning about him over the phone to a friend when she was sixteen. He'd lectured her for three hours on the subject, spoke of its inappropriateness, chided her on priorities. She'd tried to be so careful, but recently her thoughts were continually straying and she was finding it virtually impossible not to react to any touch, whisper or word.

Perhaps it was the fact she was an 18 year-old woman free of puberty and entering the most adventurous and curious time of her life.

Whatever it was, though, she would have to try and fight it and concentrate on her responsibilities. There was no saying just how Anderson would react if this was to continue. His "chat" was a warning, she knew that well enough, and next time would be reprimand. She would make time to meet with Mark, though, to find out where he was unhappy with her performance. She could work on it from there.

She looked up at the windows as the room went dark as Mark exited the training room. She sighed and stared into the darkness. Perhaps just one last dream…

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Princess mounted her bike with a kick and rounding of her leg. She wriggled against the seat for comfort, and flicked her hair behind her as she squeezed the throttle and tore out of the Federation office carpark. The smoke from the spinning back tire billowed sideways and haloed her in a cloud of ashen smoke. She flicked her head sideways to look for oncoming traffic. He watched as her eyes caught a ray of sunshine and held it within, then offered it to him as a bright sparkle. Her head turned again and amidst the sound of a roaring engine harmonised by the whiz of turbo she was gone.

Mark shuddered and cracked his neck. He had to pull at the collar of his shirt as it tightened uncomfortably and restricted his deep swallow. This was an image that had been coming to mind far too frequently now. Years of watching her leave on her bike had permanently imprinted it in his subconscious and he didn't need to watch her anymore to see her entire body shudder at the power of the engine revving between her legs – at least not lately anyway. It was a scene that played in varying degrees in his mind. The depths and signals changed based on his mood at the time. Today, it was less romantic, more stimulating…and that was not how he should be thinking of her.

No, she'd probably slap him hard across the face if she was to know he was thinking such thoughts.

He shifted in the Lazy-Boy chair in his on-base quarters and lowered his eyes to the crotch of his white jeans. He let out a long groan of disgust at the behaviour of a 20-year-old body riddled with 20-year-old hormones reacting to a mental image of a pretty girl. This was something that was beginning to happen too frequently. That and those recurring dreams that would see him wake in a sweat and shudder, sometimes soiled in his own dishonour of fantasising about a team-mate. His sleeping moments were something he had little control of so he had taught himself to enjoy what little afterglow such dreams offered, but to think nothing further of them. It was a natural part of life and growing up, or so he convinced himself. Dreams were essentially uncontrollable, but as long as he kept focussed and ceased day time dreaming of her, that would redeem him for anything his subconscious decided to throw his way.

Of course, that was all easier said than done. Fortunately missions were frequent and totally mind consuming, which provided a good distraction for him. He'd yet to be questioned on his enthusiasm to join a mission or take part in press conferences and mission briefings and intelligence meetings. If anything, Anderson had applauded his drive and dedication to the job.

He stood and wandered to the bathroom for a long shower. After training for so long in the gym in the afternoon, he'd been too exhausted to even shower. Nothing was more relaxing than standing under the spray of his own personal shower, so he'd opted to wait until getting into his room and had gotten his breath back to bathe. Now that his intense and involuntary arousal had finally calmed, it was the perfect opportunity to let it all out and relax. His clothes fell of him in a crumpled heap as he passed the sink counter.

He waited outside the stall as the hot water billowed a wall of steam around his feet and knees. Warm, steamless air circled up his back and caressed the bumps and rounds of each muscle like gentle hands following a warm breath. His eyes closed and he tilted his head, offering the phantom hands his neck. He shuddered with expectation, desperately willing for the touch of lips against him. He felt hands and breath, all he wanted was the softness of the mouth.

His eyes shot open and he shuddered again, this time it was more of a shake. He was alone, Princess was not here with him. He bit hard on his bottom lip to refocus his body's energies on pain, not pleasure, and spun the cold-water tap. The sudden burst of cold into hot sent a gust of steam rushing up his chest. His hair was blown from where it has stuck to his temples through sweat and whipped at his ears. As if suddenly drawn into a vacuum, or guided by invisible hands, Mark stepped into the steam and under the spray.

The water was like hot kisses, like a warm tongue slowly devouring his salty covering. He let out a long sigh of contentment and let his brows draw into a frown of pleasure. With such little opportunity for exploration of pleasures outside of the "office", the shower had become his greatest friend. It offered him stimulation and warmth that any woman Jason threw in his direction was unable to give. The water's hands were silent and caring, they explored him and cleansed him, even in his most unclean moments. It was also secretive and silent, nothing they shared together would go beyond his imagination. He shared his thoughts without a spoken word, and was given all he needed without asking.

His mind strayed to his teammate again as he darkened his vision with a long held blink. Her green eyes, outlined by the blackest of black lashes with a length capable of causing a tornado when she blinked, appeared first. They emerged from the shadows of his imagination, glimmering with mischief and inviting him to come closer. His arm, drawn by a pleading hand, extended out in front of him. His fingers searched into the darkness for her hair, but his eyes found it first. A sliver of peacock green on black, caught by the glint of light from a source unknown, framed an ivory face. Her pink, glossed lips parted gently and breathed his name. Her whisper, housing only a hint of her soft voice, sent a shudder from his head to his groin. He whimpered her name in response and moved forward to find her mouth with his.

Her hands found his face before he could find her mouth and she heavily drew her fingers across his cheeks and threaded them into his hair. She guided his head with heavy hands backward. He let out a static moan. Her lips, wet, warm and soft, swept along his jaw line and drew away the water from the jet above both their heads. Her body slid against his, lubricated by the hot water and mutual sweat. She was like the finest silk, soft and strong, and slid easily over him. Her hips met his. He had to groan. She bit into his neck and slid her hips against his, every breath she took exhaled a whisper of his name against his skin.

Mark dipped his head to her face to kiss her and was surprised when she smiled and shook her head. Through wet bangs and heavy streams of water in front of his eyes, he watched her sweep her hair off her shoulders and slowly lower herself to her knees. All he could do was shudder in anticipation of what she was about to do. He lowered his hand to stop her, but paused. She took him whole; she took him with all of the warmth and firmness that he had fantasized about.

He fell back heavily against the wall, barely unable to stand up on his weakened legs. His breath was fast and panted, harder than a whimper, but less than a moan. His inhale was sharp and exhale shaking as she moved along his length and elicited deeper pleasures than he thought possible.

Her voice echoed around the small stall and hissing shower head, "Mark?"

He responded with a hoarse, "Princess."

There was silence for a moment and he let himself silently enjoy the water and her pleasures. It was something experienced only in dreams, he didn't want to let her go. He let one hand hold gently at her head.

"Mark?" Her voice again, this time, louder and more urgent. He called out her name in a long breath, willing for her voice again, wanting it to drive him further into pleasure and drive him to climax. His body began to tighten and shudder he called out to her once more, panted and desperate.

"Mark…Mark?"

His eyes rolled backward in his head and he bellowed loud and forcefully on the tip of climax. He called to the Gods and to Princess and begged them to let him dissolve into complete release.

"Mark, can you hear me, are you alright? Answer me, please." The plea ended abruptly with a gasp of surprise.

Mark's eyes shot open and he pulled himself off the tile. His eyes flashed to the stunned woman standing in this bathroom doorway, and then down to where the image of his third was. With embarrassing realization, he leaned back on the wall and let out a cough. "Princess…"

She flicked her eyes away from him and shuddered her own embarrassment out on a breath. "Mark. I'm sorry. I was concerned when I heard you call my name. I thought you'd—"

He honestly didn't know what to say as he stood before her, naked, wet, with his hand on himself. He wanted to be mad at her; furious that she would just walk in to his bathroom, but his absolute disappointment in himself at succumbing to his own need simply deflated any other emotion. He swallowed hard and dropped his head. "Princess … I…"

Her breath ghosted across his face as she spoke. She was obviously standing right in front of him. "Mark. Let me?"

His eyes flashed wide at her words and he found that his mind asked his ears if he'd heard her right. As her hands feather-touched his hip and lightly traced up and down, he received his answer. Slowly he raised his eyes to hers. "Princess?"

Her hand slid down along his hip and across his thigh. "Don't be embarrassed," she whispered against his ear as her fingers circled the crevice between his thighs. "I break too, you know."

He widened his legs for her to thread her hand through underneath his testicles to lightly massage them. "You too?"

Her open mouth scraped along his collarbone and she let out a sigh as though he were the one touching her. "Mark. Sometimes I need you so much that it hurts me not to touch myself." She ran her palm up his shaft and curled her fingers around him. "I imagine you inside me, the way you slide, the way your …" she let out a sharp breath that expelled as a moan when his hand found her breast.

"I want to be inside you," he panted, each breath shifting in time with each stroke of her hand. "I can't take this loneliness anymore."

She bit lightly on his collarbone and whimpered softly. "It isn't enough," she agreed softly. "Just pleasing ourselves as we think of each other."

His hands rose to fumble with her belt as she continued to move her hands upon him. "Dreams aren't enough."

She pressed her lips against his and spoke against them as she drew her hands back to undo her jeans for him. "I need you so badly, Mark. If you don't make love to me right now I'm going to die."

Her words stung his mind. He clamped his mouth against hers and pulled her hips to his as he shoved her jeans down. Wetted by the shower's stream, the jeans were reluctant to give and he had to stoop to push them off her.

Their lips did not separate with his downward crouch. Princess cupped his face and held him to her, which dropped her into a forward lean. She gladly kicked off the jeans as they were pushed to her ankles.

Mark slid his hands up her legs as he rose. He pressed his chest into her belly and circled his arms around her hips to haul her up off the floor and up against the cold tile wall.

Princess let out a gasp and straightened her back against the wall to let out a shrill moan of sheer expectation of sliding down his body and onto him. She gripped her fingertips into his shoulders and hooked her thighs around his hips.

"God, Mark," she pleaded in an octave higher than she thought she were capable. "Now. Please."

He dragged his tongue up the center of her belly and chest as she slid wetly down his body. He felt her opened legs lock tightly around him and held her just short of penetration. His lust-laden eyes bore deeply into hers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me?"

"God yes."

"Only me?"

Her fingers dug tighter into his shoulders, enough that her nails chipped into his skin. She opened her mouth to scream out her affirmative and to beg him to take her, but only managed to squeal a moan when she finally felt him slide into her.

He didn't pause or hold himself firm inside her. As soon as he was inside her fully, he drew his hips backward to slide out her. He moaned loudly in a manner that was more of a grunt as he rocked into her again.

It was everything he could have imagined inside or outside of dreams. She fit around him like a tight blanket, like his tightened hand … like her tightened hand.

He shifted inside her with quickening strokes that were more driven by his hips than with a whole body rock. He wanted to fell her piqued breasts against his chest; to feel her hardened nipples scrape lightly up and down his skin.

They were like two divine little balls of electricity that rolled and ticked against him. It drove him to move against her faster.

He knew he was being selfish. He knew that he was satisfying his own needs first, but he couldn't control himself. She was hot all around him, her breath, her skin, her hair and her words; they drove into him and begged him to rock harder.

And he did.

Princess certainly didn't seem to mind that his movement seemed so fast it would be blistering. She sighed, whined and begged him for more. To move faster, to dive deeper, to bring her to the very edge of the cliff he was teetering on.

She slapped at his shoulders and yanked at his hair as his hips clashed against hers. Water droplets in between them popped and splashed as he moved harder and faster inside her. He felt yet another sting as her nails broke the skin on his back and let out a thunderous cry as he felt every single dream, every thought, and every previous self-induced orgasm combine together to drive the very life out if him…

…and into her.

Her squeal of what only could have been sheer agony ripped from her mouth and swirled around him as he pulled her down hard on him and held her firm so that he was embedded as far inside her as possible,. His grip on her was tight and as he felt the last explosion within him expel through his eyes, he finally looked upon her.

Her eyes were wide, but her expression agonizing. Fearing he'd hurt her, he dipped his head forward to seek forgiveness.

She panted and clawed again at his shoulders. "God, Mark. Don't stop. Please."

He didn't know if he could, but he tried. With effort he pulled back and into her again, and again. With only two more strokes inside her, Princess suddenly let out another shrill cry and completely locked rigid around him. Her hands left his shoulders and clawed vainly at the tile as she fell into the same violent hole he had.

They drew their breath from each other as they finally settled and fell loosely against the wall. He smoothed his hands over her wet hair and kissed her lightly across her face and mouth.

"Oh,' she panted as she finally found her senses and flopped forward against him. "Mark. No dream I've ever had has come close to that."

He wanted to chuckle, but found himself only able to kiss her again. "I know."

She shakily lowered her legs to stand awkwardly on the shower floor. She wobbled and pressed her hand against his chest in order to stand and smiled gratefully as he held her elbow in support. "It'll never feel the same again."

"What's that," he asked gently as he turned off the showers and reached for a towel.

She lowered her head shyly and tugged down at her shirt as though trying to find decency. "Thinking of you and exploring myself."

He slid toward her and wrapped his towel around them both to pull her against him. "I hope you'll never need to have to do it yourself."

She threaded her arms around his neck and nestled into him as he picked her up and carried him toward his bed. "Does that mean we'll do this again?"

He put her on his bed and lay down beside her, ignorant to the fact they were both still wet. He ran his hand down her face and across her lips. "Whenever you need it, Princess." He watched a smile form on her lips and stole a small kiss from them. "I don't want the loneliness anymore. I need you, and I don't want to deny it."

She nestled into his chest and drew her fingers along his stomach. "So any time I want it?"

He nodded. "Yes, Princess."

She smiled against his chest. "Mark?"

"Yes?"

"I want it."


End file.
